


The one where Torres and Mata open a nursery

by awkwardsorta



Series: Torres and Mata's Nursery [1]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: East End Stories, Finding a home, Footballers and Babies, Gen, M/M, Nursery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-22
Updated: 2012-10-22
Packaged: 2017-11-17 06:14:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/548488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkwardsorta/pseuds/awkwardsorta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone is looking for a home of sorts. Ft. various footballers and their babies, including numerous West Ham players. They have really cute baby names, I apologise for nothing.</p><p>Reference images <a href="http://awkward-sorta.livejournal.com/11950.html">here</a> and <a href="http://mysticaltramping.tumblr.com/tagged/footballers%20and%20babies">here</a>!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The one where Torres and Mata open a nursery

Juan Mata hands in his letter of resignation on a Monday morning, and by Tuesday afternoon the whole office knows that he is leaving to start a children’s nursery with his partner. The response comes with a mixture of upfront well wishes and whispered derision. Juan doesn’t care. He is too good at his job to care, having risen above his manager in five years and to the verge of partner in eight. Instead of a promotion, however, he takes redundancy.

“I hear your company are handing out redundancies,” his friend David says over their Wednesday morning breakfast in Lincoln Fields. He’s eating a bagel and there are sesame seeds down his tie.

“Yep,” Juan says. There are almonds in his granola and he picks them out meticulously, placing them in a neat pile on the wall between them.

“Those are good for you,” David says.

Juan pushes the small heap in David’s direction and David just ignores him.

“I also hear that your firm’s most promising young consultant is leaving.”

Juan smiles. “You must have good sources.”

David shrugs. “So how did it go?”

“Oh, you know, most of the office think I’ve gone completely mad. Senior management think I’m ungrateful, and I think some of them don’t believe the nursery thing and genuinely think that I’m deflecting to our rivals. They should know that I’d at least have the sense to go solo.”

“That is the sensible option.” David smiles around his bottle as he takes a drink.

“How did that lunch go last week?”

“Fine,” David says. “I just have to decide if I want to spend another eighteen months in Manchester.”

Juan laughs, and David brushes crumbs from his tie.

 

 

In his time, Fernando Torres has worked in many places and many jobs and not one of them has stuck. He got tired of working behind a bar, because he actually likes daylight, and he got tired of working as a substitute teacher because he hated the inconsistency, and he got really tired of working behind the desk at the law firm because lawyers are all rude, entitled arses who think that if they forget their passes then that is Fernando’s problem, or possibly their secretary’s, but certainly not their own.

Fernando knows that he has told Steven this before, but -

“I think what you’re trying to tell me,” Steven says, voice coming tinny and far away like he’s leaning away from the phone, distracted by something else. “Even though it sounds like you’re just having a whinge, is that I’m not going to be working in a call centre forever.”

“Yes,” Fernando says. “That is exactly what I’m saying. What did you call about anyway?”

“Our sponsor pulled out and now we don’t have shirts for the tournament next month.”

Fernando hears a key in the front door and looks up. “I bet Juan could help.”

Stevie sighs. “I was really hoping you’d say that.”

 

 

On Sunday Ricardo Vaz Te takes his three little sisters to the zoo and then to a pub with a big garden at the back. They have lemonade and crisps and talk about Ricardo’s life in London. He tells them about the regulars in his cafe down in East London and they like especially the stories of the man with 1940s hair who always comes in before the match on a Saturday.

They stay until the cool evening air drives them back to the hotel, then Ricardo says goodbye and goes back his room above the launderette on Barking Road. He picks up the papers on his way, and some supper. He sits in his window, watches the life outside and reads the job pages.

There’s nothing of course, there’s always nothing. Nothing that Ricardo is prepared to do anyway; he is looking for a long term position, a place to belong.

“I’m happy here,” he tells himself, and when he looks down on the busy street below, watching the late evening crowds of people, he believes it. He doesn’t want to move yet, and he goes to bed hoping that tomorrow, something will come up.

 

 

Juan wakes up at six am on his first day of freedom with a jolt. He reaches automatically for his phone, but it isn’t there.

“You quit,” Fernando says from beneath a mound of pillows, and Juan looks at him, waiting for his brain to catch up, blinking sleep from his eyes.

“What?”

Fernando rolls over to look at him. He is smiling, and there are pillow marks across his cheek. “You’re not at work,” he says, and holds an arm out, beckoning Juan in. “Go back to sleep.”

Juan rolls into Fernando’s arms and presses an absentminded kiss to his collar bone. He starts to think about one of his clients - former clients - and then he can’t switch off.

Juan’s last weeks in the firm had been hectic; despite planning for months previous and ensuring that all his accounts were running smoothly, with opportunities in the pipeline, that assignment teams were stable and there were no major risks anywhere, he still found that there was too much to do in four weeks. He came home late each evening and opened up his laptop again to keep working on the nursery business. Juan hasn’t had more than six hours’ sleep, has barely seen daylight and hasn’t said more than goodmorning and goodnight to his children in over a month.

He pushes the covers back and Fernando groans.

“Oh my god, it’s Saturday.”

Juan grimaces apologetically. “I can’t go back to sleep,” he says. “I’m sorry. You sleep, the children are probably awake anyway, I’ll start baths.”

Fernando catches hold of his waistband as he shifts to sit on the side of the bed. “I’ll come too,” he says. “Just give me a minute.”

Juan goes to the bathroom and when he comes back Fernando is asleep again. He closes the door quietly on his way out.

 

 

It isn’t the first childcare advert that Ricardo has responded to - he interviewed for a Nanny position in a big house in the suburbs, divorced parents and two quiet girls. He hadn’t got the job, but he hadn’t minded too much. The atmosphere in the house had been strained.

The nursery position comes up in the Wednesday job pages of the East London Advertiser. The job description asks for qualifications he doesn’t have, but he figures it’s worth a try.

The interview is on a building site, give or take a few plaster walls. The two men interviewing apologise for the mess - “We are on schedule, believe it or not,” one of them says, and the other gives a wry smile.

Ricardo misses their names when they give them, because he is so nervous, and says yes when he means no, and thank you when he doesn’t know what he means, but they are calm and friendly and Ricardo starts to relax. He tells them about bringing up his three sisters, about how much he likes children, and he finds himself telling them about his situation, about wanting to find a place where he feels at home.

“We know that feeling,” they say. “We both came from Spain, and we found a new home here.”

One of them smiles, and Ricardo smiles back.

 

 

Fernando and Juan invite everyone over for dinner. They say it isn’t conventional, but that they aren’t too bothered about what is conventional. Ricardo recognises two of the assistants from the interviews. They are brothers, and they are from Brazil, via Italy. The younger one, Rafa, he smiles a lot, and his brother Thiago has a reassuring air about him. Ricardo decides he likes them both within five minutes. They remind him of himself and his sisters, they have the same care about each other. They speak Portuguese, too, and it’s a little overwhelming just to hear the familiar tones.

They meet Juan’s sister, Paula, who is helping Juan to set up the business, and somehow she bridges the gap between owners and employees, bringing everyone into conversations and keeping the mood light. No one talks shop, although stories of past jobs come up and it turns out that Vero, a girl around Ricardo’s age who knows Juan from back home, has been to Ricardo’s cafe. “It was on my way to work,” she says. “When I was getting the train to Streatham every day.” She is a football fan, and she falls into easy conversation with Ricardo about West Ham.

They get the bus back to Barking Road together, and when Ricardo puts his key in the lock, opens the door that leads to the stairs to his flat, he is smiling. It feels good to say goodbye to someone in the area, to walk the twenty yards to his front door. To feel like a local.

 

 

“We’re going to need to hire Dan,” Fernando says over dinner. Juan is doing most of the cooking now that he is working from home, and tonight he has made lasagne. The children are in bed and there’s jazz on the record player.

“Wine?” Juan hovers the bottle over Fernando’s glass, and he nods. “Dan the...”.

“Dan the boy with the childcare diploma who you said we couldn’t afford to hire.”

“Oh, that Dan.” Juan sits down on the settee next to him and puts the bottle on the coffee table. “Why can we now afford to hire him?”

“Because we had another applicant,” Fernando says, “Taking our numbers over the limit of helpers we have, and she’s really sweet.”

Juan tips his head back. “Nando-” he starts.

“Don’t do the business talk, come on. She’s called Honey.”

Juan smiles, despite himself. “You’re a terrible business partner,” he says, and Fernando puts his plate to one side. “Yes,” he says, kissing Juan’s shoulder, “But I’m pretty,” he kisses Juan again, “And you love me.”

“And you gave our children tall genes,” Juan says, and Fernando smiles.

“Good business partner choice,” he says.

“Thanks.”

 

 

Ricardo starts on a Saturday in late August. The assistants are coming in a few days early to decorate and make sure they know their way around. He is nervous until he arrives, and then Megan and Lori meet him in the entranceway with armfuls of sugar paper and thumbtacks, and before he knows it he is standing on a chair pinning paper chains to the ceiling. Megan and Lori live across the river and they had invited Ricardo to their house within ten minutes of meeting him.

Fernando goes through rotas and day schedules with them, and they talk about roles and responsibilities in the nursery. Megan and Lori make tea for everyone, and they sit in the sun while Fernando runs through the health and safety policies. Afterwards, they construct flatpack bookcases and tables and fall into fits of laughter over the garbled instructions. Thiago and Rafa give up early on, declaring the translations from Swedish to English through the eyes of someone learning the language too impossible. Megan just laughs at them and persuades Rafa to put the kettle on again.

 

 

Ricardo quickly learns that working in a nursery is nothing like being a nanny. Where once he had only two or three children to keep track of, now there are twenty-nine. Luckily, Fernando is in his element. He tells Ricardo that he has never looked after children aside from the various birthday parties held for Nora and Leo, but Ricardo watches him single-handedly entertain, pacify and hold the hands of nine excitable children and he thinks that he can’t imagine anyone more suited to this job.

Juan usually pops his head in once a day, says hello to his children if they are not with him for the day and checks on the business side of things with Fernando. After a month he feels confident enough in the smooth running of the place to leave them to it. Paula does the accounts and ordering, and Juan keeps an eye on it all, but he finds, too, that he gets bored. He cooks and he cleans, he plays and reads with his children, he shops for the family home and he has time to see all the exhibitions and read the books that he had been putting off for the last ten years. He researches schools because Nora will turn five in July. He picks out new colours for their living room and although they could hire a decorator he paints it himself.

Fernando comes home one day to find Juan reading cookbooks at the kitchen table. He leans over his husband’s shoulder and Juan kisses him hello.

“Hello,” Fernando says, and puts his chin on top of Juan’s head. “Almond and blueberry tart? Looks yummy.”

Juan laughs. “Okay,” he says, “Hint taken.”

Fernando leans around for another kiss and lingers there.

 

 

Ricardo doesn't play favourites - all the children are delightful in their own special ways, even the spoilt, bratty ones who cry when they don't get what they want, even they take the time to tell Ricardo stories about their weekend that are incomprehensible but fantastic.

However there are some days that Ricardo is hard pressed not to bestow all his best attention on certain children. Honey takes this place within about ten minutes of arriving. She tells Ricardo he has a nice face but a funny voice, and then she tells him that she supports West Ham and that when she grows up she's going to play for them. Ricardo accepts and acknowledges in that moment that she has just stolen a little bit of his heart.

Honey joins a couple of weeks later than the rest, and she is a little shy around the other children. Ricardo sees her hanging back but leaves it for the moment. It's always better to give them time to figure it out for themselves. She doesn't seem unhappy anyway, and sits down in the corner to look at her book. Dan comes up to Ricardo later when they're all napping and says, with a highly amused look, "Have you seen what she's reading?"

Ricardo tells Mark, Honey's father, when he comes in later and Mark smiles. "Which year?" he asks. "1976," Ricardo tells him, and that gets a little chuckle out of Mark. Ricardo smiles back at him. "That's one of her favourites," Mark says, and shrugs with an embarrassed smile. "Like father like daughter I suppose."

 

 

It’s Vero’s idea to start them on football, but she gives all the credit to Honey.

When Honey settles in to the nursery she shares her football annuals with Summer Mae and together they read it out loud, or, at least, profess to, to Leo. He sits between them, absorbed in their patter, as they point out all Honey’s favourite players.

Taking the children for walks is out of the question - the nursery is on a busy main road and the nearest park is half a mile away. There’s a small garden out back though, a triangle of grass and a sandpit. One day Vero constructs a makeshift goal out of her shoes, Honey tells her she is Phil Parkes, and that’s that.

Ricardo and Dan join in the next day, they play goalkeeper games and they kick the ball past Vero’s flailing limbs with shrieking delight. Honey’s pigtails come undone and Nora does them up again. By the time the parents turn up the children are collectively exhausted, and they curl up in car seats and pushchairs with no fuss.

Mark’s on his way out of the building when Ricardo catches up with him, book in hand. “Here,” he says. “Don’t want her to go without this tonight.”

Mark laughs again at the sight of the battered annual. Ricardo brushes a hand over Honey’s head. “She’s pretty quick on the ball,” he says. “She might really be onto something with her idea of playing professionally.”

“She’s been sleeping under a poster of Bobby Moore since she was born,” Mark says. “So, you know."

Ricardo realises Mark is hovering in the doorway and he steps back. “Well, I’ll let you go.”

Mark nods and smiles, and Ricardo shuts the door behind him. His cheeks hurt when he stops smiling.

 

 

Rafa and Thiago like painting best. They join in the football games sometimes and they’re great at mealtimes but their favourite activity is painting. Rafa has a particular propensity for getting covered in the stuff, smears from fingers and brushes and sponges all down his face and arms, old t-shirts coloured merrily with the pink used for Leo’s elephant and the blue of Shaqueel’s monsters.

Thiago gets less messy and tuts in an older brother way, but he’s better at getting the children to tidy up after themselves. Megan and Lori swore off painting when Rafa was around, finger painting sounded fun until the children were painting each other. Now they play a game of pairs that the children helped make and a friend of Lori’s printed for them at the shop down the road.

Honey turns over one Fernando, a blue stick figure with a lot of blonde hair, and looks up at Megan.

“Where is the other Fernando?” Megan says. “Do you remember?”

Honey points to the kitchen.

 

 

David takes the job in Manchester and Juan doesn’t see him as much as he used to. There is radio silence for a month and then David calls.

Juan jams his phone between his shoulder and ear and carries on reading a web forum about childcare. “You’d think I’d be used to your disappearing act.”

“What disappearing act?”

Juan snorts. “Hey,” he says, “Why do so many parents have time to post on forums?”

“Maybe because their partners are the ones looking after their kids and working to support the family,” David says. “Wow, I have no idea how that set-up could work. Maybe you do.”

Juan laughs a little. “I’m working,” he says. “Anyway it’s eleven on a Thursday morning, shouldn’t you be wowing someone in a meeting right now?”

“I’m in a taxi,” David says. “I have ten minutes, I thought I’d call you and check you weren’t bankrupt yet.”

“Such faith in us.”

“Sure.”

Juan stands up and stretches, taking a hold of the phone again. He yawns down the phone. “How’s it going?”

“Good.” Juan can hear the traffic now in the background. David says something to the driver and the sound of a radio is turned down. “Yeah, good, fine.”

“You think you made the right choice?”

David sighs a little. “Honestly,” he says, “You know I didn’t really want to come back to this company, but I like the people, and I like it here. In Manchester, I mean.”

“You like the people?”

Juan can hear David’s smile when he answers. “Yeah, Juanito, I like the people. They actually have a good time at work, instead of being constantly terrified that they’re not going to make enough money.”

“I had a good time at work.”

There’s a long pause. “Hm,” David says.

“Maybe not good enough to stay,” Juan admits. “But I liked what I did.”

“I know,” David says. “And so does everyone here. Maybe I’m not going to make the world change with this project but, you know.”

“Yeah,” Juan says, and then David cuts in again. “Okay,” he says, “I’m here, have to go wow someone.”

“Show them that Silva magic,” Juan says, and David laughs. “I’ll talk to you soon,” he promises, and then he’s gone.

Juan puts the computer to sleep and dials Fernando’s number.

“Can I get the children for the afternoon? I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

 

 

The nursery is in Canning Town and it is little surprise therefore that the majority of their families are Hammers. Ricardo sneaks claret and blue striped scarves into the dressing up box and there is more than one tiny replica shirt being worn on game day.

Often on Mondays Honey will tell Ricardo about the match she saw that weekend, cheery tales of goals scored and mispronounced names. So on Friday afternoons when Mark comes to collect her, Ricardo talks to him about his expectations and predictions. They linger long after five o’clock in the entranceway, talking tactics and teamsheets.

One evening, a few months after the nursery opens, Mark is distracted when he picks up Honey. He stumbles through a conversation with Ricardo as parents come and go and the nursery assistants start tidying up.

“Actually,” Mark says, cutting Ricardo off, “Are you doing anything tomorrow?”

Ricardo backtracks. He can’t work out where that came from in their conversation. “Sorry?”

Mark clears his throat. “I have a spare ticket to the match this weekend,” he says. “I wondered if you’d like to join us?”

“Oh!” Ricardo can almost feel his brain systematically shutting down in the face of this question.

Mark looks awkward. “I don’t know,” he says, “No pressure.”

Ricardo thinks he might just stand there looking like a moron forever, then Dan comes up behind him and smiles brightly at Mark. “If you don’t say yes,” he says, “I will.” Then he’s off again.

Mark laughs a little and Ricardo finds his voice. “Yeah,” he says. “I’m free. And - I’d love to.”

Dan is grinning as he leaves the nursery that evening. “You like him,” he says, and winks at Ricardo. Ricardo doesn’t reply; he doesn’t think it’s that simple.

Ricardo has found the home he wanted, the reason for staying in West Ham, the people to make him stay, and now this threatened all of it. Dan had been smiling when he said it, but the reality of the situation hits Ricardo. Mark is a friendly face, Honey is precious to him, and the nursery is everything in Ricardo’s life. It’s beyond stupid to risk that, any of it.

 

 

Ricardo packs up in silence and goes home. The worry stays with him all afternoon. He eats a small supper and half-listens to an FA Cup match on the radio, his mind elsewhere. He washes up the few dishes on the side, puts out the recycling, and hangs up the day’s laundry. Then he makes his mind up. He takes out his phone and sends a message. “I’m sorry,” it says, “Something has come up and I can’t come on Saturday. Another time.”

He turns off the phone before a message can come in reply, and goes to bed early, the late evening light still filtering through his curtains.

The next day he tries to stay inside when the children arrive, out of the way, but Dan disappears with a nudge and a wink and Ricardo is waiting in the entranceway when Mark turns up with Honey in tow. Mark smiles at him and Ricardo can’t help but smile back. He focuses the smile on Honey instead, and she says hello before running inside.

“Imagine her doing that two months ago,” Mark says, laughing at her lack of goodbye. “You’ve really helped her settle in.”

Ricardo feels his smile waver. “Yes,” he says, ducking his head, “Well, it wasn’t all me, she – she’s had no problem really.”

“Hey,” Mark says, “About the game. Don’t worry about it, one of our neighbours can come instead. Maybe next week though?”

“I – maybe. I mean,” Ricardo rubs the back of his neck and stammers. “That is – I don’t know. Next week probably won’t work.”

Mark nods, after a second. “Okay,” he says, pulling back a little. “No worries.”

Ricardo feels awful. “Sorry,” he starts, and then another group of parents and their children come into the nursery, cutting him off. Mark nods a greeting at them and the hallway fills with noise.

“Have a good day,” Mark says in the midst of it all, and then he is gone.

Ricardo goes through the routine of the day: he reads with Honey and plays football with the children outside, mediates in a sandpit argument between Shaqueel and everyone else, hands out milk and cookies, watches over their naps, tidies up, comforts Leo when he falls over, and takes two deliveries. He talks enough to keep Dan from questioning him, and holds off any mention of that Saturday until the end of the day.

“I’m not going,” he says, in response to Dan’s question. Dan’s jaw drops.

“Why?”

Ricardo shrugs, feigning indifference. “I just can’t make it.”

“Liar,” Dan says. “You’re a chicken.”

Ricardo shrugs at him again, feeling miserable. Dan is quiet for a while. “There’s no harm in it,” he says eventually, and when Ricardo doesn’t reply he pats his back. “I’ll see you Monday.”

 

 

In place of Wednesday breakfasts David comes to Juan and Fernando’s house when he is down in London for the weekend. In a house with two young children, breakfast is early, and sometimes David will show up at six am to go for a run with Juan around Greenwich Park. Afterwards, David uses the guest shower and Fernando cooks them eggs, and, if Nora and Leo get their way, pancakes. Sometimes David comes in the afternoon and they take the children to the observatory, or take a ferry ride up the Thames.

This weekend they are on their way back from ice cream on the South Bank. Fernando and Nora are sitting inside the ferry, away from the wind that picks up on the water, and David and Juan are standing at the prow, Leo safely encased in his father’s arms and watching the water ahead of him.

David and Juan are talking about the business that Juan left behind.

“I remember being very sure that I wanted to leave,” Juan says. “I remember being very sure that I was wasting precious years with the children while they are young.”

He adjusts Leo’s jacket against the wind. “And I love it,” he says, “Being with them, I mean. But I miss working. My brain is bored.”

David nudges him a little and Leo points out a seagull ahead of them.

“Do you want to come back?” David asks. “Because you know you have the skills and the experience, and the client base. And I would help.”

 

 

Juan tells Fernando as they are getting ready for bed that night. “Thank god for that,” Fernando says, and tackles Juan into bed. In a tangle of sheets, Juan frames Fernando’s face in his hands. “You think it’s a good idea?”

Fernando kisses Juan and then props himself up on his elbows. “I think that you’ve thought very hard about it and that you wouldn’t be making the decision lightly.”

“It would be part time,” Juan says, “One or two days a week. I’ll just take a client at a time. I can still do all the nursery stuff and -” he breaks off. Fernando is smiling at him, and Juan smiles back and lets out the breath that he was holding.

“I want you to be happy,” Fernando says. “I get to go out to work every day, I see other people and have conversations that aren’t about groceries or that we need to buy a present for someone’s birthday party.”

Juan groans. “I like those conversations,” he says. “But I want other ones.”

“I know.” Fernando rolls off him. “I’m really pleased,” he says, and gets up.

Juan gets off the bed after a minute and steps up behind Fernando where he is brushing his teeth over the sink. He puts his arms around him and kisses the back of his neck. “I love you,” he says. Fernando smiles around his toothbrush.

 

 

Ricardo goes across town on Saturday, escaping before the crowds come. He takes the tube to Greenwich and walks beside the river, watching the water and letting the fresh air clear his head. When he comes back the streets are quiet again as though nothing had happened while he had been away, and he sits in his window and watches the usual Saturday night life go by.

Come Monday morning he has almost forgotten, until the children start to arrive and he feels a jolt each time a parent walks in. The usual time passes by and Honey hasn’t appeared, when he hears a familiar call of his name and she comes running in the door.

“Hey Honey,” he says, offering a hand to high five. When he looks up, Mark isn’t there. In his place, an unfamiliar man about Mark’s age with Charlie, one of the quieter little boys, in his arms. He puts Charlie down and holds out a hand to Ricardo.

“Hi,” he says. “I’m Mr Taylor, Charlie's dad. I’m Mark’s neighbour, he had to work early this morning and asked me to bring Honey.”

Ricardo shakes his hand. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says. “I was going to call –,“ but then he falters, because he probably would have got Megan or Fernando to call.

Mr Taylor speaks over his confusion. “Listen,” he says, and then pauses to crouch down beside his son.

“Charlie boy,” he says. “Behave yourself, okay? Mummy will pick you up this afternoon.”

Charlie nods and runs inside. His dad straightens up. “Do you have a minute?”

“Of course,” Ricardo gestures at the seats in the hallway. “Do you want to sit down?”

“Oh, no, I'm good thanks.” Mr Taylor puts his hands in his pockets and looks at the noticeboard, then clears his throat. “Listen,” he says. “This is – this is totally not my place, so feel free to tell me to leave it, but. You and Mark are good mates, yeah?”

Ricardo feels his throat close up a little and he swallows. “Yes,” he says. “I mean. He’s.”

Mr Taylor smiles a little then. “Relax,” he says, “I’m not here to have a go at you. I just – he’s told me a little bit about you, and – I don’t know if you’re not interested, you know, in, him.” He pauses. “Um. But I thought you should know that he is. So, if that’s not the page you’re on, you should probably make that clear. And if it is the page you’re on, I can think of few nicer guys than Mark.”

He looks at Ricardo, and Ricardo just gapes a little.

“Seriously,” Mr Taylor says. “Mark – he, he’d kill me if he knew I was saying this, but he’s one of the good ones. So. Just – be nice to him okay?”

“Okay,” Ricardo manages, feeling a little side-swiped. Mr Taylor smiles slightly, looking a little stunned himself.

“Well,” he says. “Ricardo, isn’t it? Sorry, for ambushing you. It’s nice to meet you anyway, Charlie talks a lot about you.”

Ricardo smiles at that. “He’s great,” he says. “He loves our football games.”

Mr Taylor laughs. “Yeah I know,” he says, “He’s got me playing them on Sundays.” He holds out his hand again to Ricardo. “My name’s Matt,” he says. “I hope I’ll see you again soon.”

Ricardo goes back into the nursery in a daze. He bumps into Fernando as Fernando is backing out of the kitchen and Fernando does a double take.

“Are you okay? You don’t look well.”

Ricardo shakes his head. “No,” he says. “No, I’m fine.”

Fernando frowns. “Well let me know if you feel ill,” he says, “The last thing we want is to start a bug here.”

Ricardo nods. “Yes, no, I’m fine really. I just- I’ll take those.” He takes the stack of paper towels from Fernando and gravitates through instinct to where there is already a juice spillage.

He gets through the rest of the day without incident, though with a few curious looks from Fernando and Dan, and he rambles his way through a meeting with Shaqueel’s dads about his misbehaving. He gets home late, exhausted, and falls asleep when his head hits the pillow. He dreams of weddings at the nursery and misunderstandings.

 

 

Thiago applies to universities in Spain and Rafa does not. Rafa tells Fernando that he thinks maybe he wants a career in childcare, but that Thiago is clever and wants to study classics. Thiago tells Fernando that Rafa’s clever too and he shouldn’t put himself down.

When Thiago gets accepted into the University of Barcelona, the nursery is quieter, the two brothers sombre and everyone else matching their mood. Leo cries all morning and Rafa takes him outside to sit in the sunshine while the children are napping.

Fernando joins them outside, after a while. “You’ll be okay on your own, you know.”

Rafa scoffs. “I know,” he says.

“Does someone need to tell Thiago that?”

Fernando’s smiling at Rafa, and Rafa smiles reluctantly back. “He just - he thinks that because I came to England with him that now I need to come everywhere with him.

“I’m nineteen,” he says. “Honestly, Fer, I can look after myself. If I say I want to stay then he’s not going to take that place, but I just like it here is all. I want to stay in England.”

“He’ll come round,” Fernando says.

“I don’t know if he will,” Rafa says. “It’s the first time we’ve ever wanted to do different things.”

“Will you keep talking to him about it at least?”

Rafa shrugs.

“Hey,” Fernando says, “What do we say in the nursery about shrugging?” and Rafa laughs.

 

 

Honey comes with Charlie’s mother on Tuesday, and again on Wednesday. Then on Wednesday afternoon Vero appears by Ricardo’s side as he is clearing up in the kitchen. She smiles at Ricardo like she has a secret. “Mark’s here,” she says. Ricardo goes hot and cold and says, “Oh.”

Vero rolls her eyes. “Go and say hello,” she says. “You complete wimp.”

Ricardo replaces a stack of paper cups into the cupboard and follows Vero back to the entrance hall. Mark stands there, Honey in his arms and a tentative smile on his face.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” says Ricardo, and smiles stupidly. Vero shakes her head and goes back inside.

“Can we go home?” Honey asks, and the two men laugh.

“Charming,” Mark says, and shifts Honey on his hip. “In a minute, sweetheart.”

“How have you been?” Ricardo says, “I heard – you had to work early mornings.”

Mark nods. “Yeah, but it wasn’t anything major, and they let me leave early today. So, yeah. Fine. How are you?”

Ricardo nods, then in a rush, before he can think better of it, he says, “Would you like to go for a drink some time?”

There is a long pause. Mark looks slightly shocked, then it clears and he smiles. “That would be nice.”

“And, I mean, Honey is welcome too, if, you know. Of course."

“Why don’t you come over to ours?” Mark says, and turns to Honey. “Would you like that? If Ricardo came to tea?”

She smiles and nods.

“Well that’s settled then,” Mark says, looking up at Ricardo. “Let us know when you’re free.”

Ricardo nods. “I will,” he says, and smiles helplessly. “I will.”

 

 

Fernando calls Steven on a Thursday evening. The children are in bed and Juan is working in their home office. Fernando is cleaning the bathroom.

“How are the shirts?”

“Perfect. I can’t thank Juan enough really.”

Fernando smiles. “He was happy to help. I think it was nice for him to have something to do that only he could have done, you know? I feel like he’s felt a bit usurped recently.”

“You mean he’s not the man of the house anymore.”

“He’s my man of the house,” Fernando says, smiling to himself. He rinses out the sink and lets the water drain.

Steven says, “Ugh,” and Fernando laughs.

“Actually,” Steven says, “Through Juan’s friend, I met this lad who runs a youth football club up at Stoneycroft.”

Fernando makes an interested noise and then bangs a few cupboard doors open. He replaces all the cleaning products and wanders into the bedroom. “Sorry,” he says. “What’s that?”

“A youth football club, like after school and weekends. He said I should come and help out.”

“Paid?”

“Yeah.”

Fernando smiles. “Hey Stevie,” he says. “That’s really good. Are you going to?”

“Yeah,” Steven says, but it sounds like he’s smiling.

“Well I should go,” he says. “But are you alright?”

Fernando sighs. "Yes. Maybe. One of my staff wants to date one of the parents." He lies on the bed with his feet hanging off the end. "Should I be worried?"

Steven just laughs.

"No I'm serious," Fernando says. "Is that against the law?"

"How do you exist as an adult?" Steven says. "I have to go and put the girls to bed, I'll talk to you soon."

 

 

Tea at Mark’s house is followed by dinner a week later and a couple of Saturdays spent in Mark and Honey’s company, Upton Park and hotdogs, matchday programmes and a walk to West Ham Park.

Nothing much changes in Ricardo’s life, except he smiles to himself a little more when no one is looking. Honey treats him no differently at the nursery, being by turns nothing but sweet natured, or tired and grouchy, and Ricardo makes a point to not always meet Mark when he drops off or picks up Honey, mostly to avoid the nudges of his coworkers. Rafa and Vero are the worst. When Thiago accepts the offer from Barcelona, Rafa makes a concerted effort to spend less time at his brother’s side, and he and Vero discover a shared love of teasing all their friends.

Ricardo kisses Mark after dinner, in the doorway as he leaves, and Mark smiles into it. Mark kisses Ricardo in Ikea as they are shopping for a bookcase for Ricardo’s flat, and Ricardo takes his hand for the rest of the trip.

 

 

Nora starts school after the Easter holidays and the nursery is a little quieter without her, a little less bossy. Fernando and Juan go on holiday for a week and while they are gone the assistants come in dressed in old clothes and armed with picnic lunches to spend the day painting. They freshen up all the walls and Ricardo paints a bright sun in the entrance hall. “Because there’s no better way to welcome someone,” he says.

Fernando comes in on Monday morning to the sight of bright colours and welcoming faces. Dan and Vero are by the door, waiting for the parents to arrive. Vero takes Leo from Fernando and takes him inside, asking him about their holiday, and Fernando stays in the doorway in the sunshine. Inside he can hear Ricardo and Honey setting out the paints in the craft corner and naming all the colours, and through an open window Megan, Paula and Lori chatting in the kitchen. A bus pulls up and drops off Thiago and Rafa and they wave from across the street, waiting for a gap in the traffic.

“How was Nora this morning?” Dan asks.

Fernando squints into the sun. “Excited and over confident,” he says. “Mostly. Juan’s going to drop by later to let me know how it went, but I’m not worried.”

“At least,” he amends, as Thiago and Rafa join them, “I’m a little worried for the other children possibly.”

He grimaces and Dan laughs.

“What are we laughing at?” Thiago says, and Rafa just smiles.

 

\---

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. All children's names in this fic are real. This makes me somewhat of a creep, but in my defence they are all from the footballers' public twitter accounts. Ages are whatever I felt best fit the story.  
> 2\. Ricardo Vaz Te really did take his sisters to see the Lion King, but that's about where the canon ends here.  
> 3\. I do apologise for referencing London so much if you are not a native, but on the plus side they are all real places and appropriate to their use in the fic.


End file.
